


White Walls

by Lithos_Maitreya



Series: Remnants [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Coming of Age, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/F, Gen, It's a bit chilly in Atlas, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7172420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithos_Maitreya/pseuds/Lithos_Maitreya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weiss' father took her back to Atlas and the Schnee manor after the battle for Beacon and Vale. As far as Weiss is aware, most people feel a sense of comfort when they come home.</p>
<p>For her, it feels more like the walls are closing in. This must be what solitary confinement feels like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this certainly ought to make up for Black Fang's short length. Here's the third part of my RWBY series of oneshot character studies, this time about Weiss.
> 
> I had no idea how bad I felt for her until I started this. I think she's my second favorite character on the team now, behind Yang.

_“Tears, and fears, and feeling proud,_   
_To say ‘I love you’ right out loud;_   
_Dreams, and schemes, and circus crowds:_   
_I’ve looked at life that way._

_But now old friends are acting strange._   
_The shake their heads; they say I’ve changed._   
_Well, something’s lost—but something’s gained—_   
_In living every day._

_I’ve looked at life from both sides now:_   
_From win and lose, and still somehow_   
_It’s life’s illusions I recall;_   
_I really don’t know life at all.”_

-Joni Mitchell, _Both Sides Now_

* * *

 

“Schnee.” The rough voice startled Weiss out of her daze with a blink. She found she was staring at her hands, curled together in her lap.

They were shaking.

She clenched them tighter to stop the shivering and looked up to meet the dark red-brown eyes studying her. “Mr. Branwen,” she greeted, trying to keep her voice steady. “How are they?”

“Yang’s basically stable,” her teammates’ uncle said with a heavy sigh, sitting down across from her and raising a hand to his face to rub at his temples. They were seated in the makeshift waiting room of one of the several field hospitals that had sprung up almost immediately in the aftermath of the battle. “The bleeding’s mostly stopped—Belladonna’s tourniquet did the job—and we can at least be thankful it was a clean removal, so they don’t have to do any additional surgery to smooth it.”

Weiss looked away and swallowed. “And Ruby?” she asked.

“She’s fine,” Qrow said reassuringly, then hesitated. “Well, I say that, but she’s got one of the worst cases of aura depletion I’ve seen without being actually on death’s door. They’re confident she’ll recover, given time. It might be several weeks, though.”

Weiss blinked hard. “I should never have let her go up there alone,” she whispered.

Qrow shook his head. “If you hadn’t,” he said quietly, “Nikos’ sacrifice would’ve been for nothing. As it is, the Dragon’s been stopped and Fall’s gone to ground, at least.”

Weiss clenched—fists, eyes, and stomach, in unison—before asking, “Are you sure she’s…?” She couldn’t finish.

Qrow sighed and shook his head. “We can’t be, yet,” he acknowledged. “There was a pile of ash found on the top of the tower right beside where the investigators say the fight happened. We haven’t been able to run any kind of DNA testing on it yet, but the doctors think it’s organic matter.”

Weiss shook her head once, trying to hold herself together. “She _burned Pyrrha alive_?” she whispered.

Qrow shook his head. “We honestly don’t know yet,” he said, “but… yeah, that’s what the detectives are saying it looks like.”

Weiss stood impulsively and walked to the window, looking out over the ruined street. “Has anyone seen Blake?” she asked, without turning around.

“We can trace her path out of the Atlas-controlled part of the city, and into the no-man’s-land,” Qrow said grimly, “but after that her trail basically goes dark. Nothing but Grimm and White Fang past there, and we don’t know whether she stole transportation and left Vale, or if she’s still out there fighting.”

Weiss looked over at him with hooded eyes. “No one suspects her of collaborating with them?” she asked lowly. “No one thinks she went to join them?”

Qrow gave a short bark of harsh, mirthless laughter. “One intelligence guy suggested it,” he said. “I corrected him. I know my nieces, Schnee, and Yang’s a good judge of character. I don’t know exactly what happened, and I don’t need to. Belladonna saved her life with that tourniquet, and you all trusted her before. That’s enough for me.”

Weiss nodded. “Good,” she said, turning around. For a moment she was still and poised, and then she struck the wall hard with a fist.

The stone cracked slightly.

“Then why did she run?” Weiss asked softly. “We need her.”

Qrow was silent.

* * *

 

“Weiss!” The familiar voice was a welcome reprieve from the endless murmur of paramedics and doctors, and from the steady monotony of trying to help with securing the small slice of Vale that remained under their control without getting in the way. Weiss felt as though it was waking her from sleep.

She turned from her work, trying to seal a breach in the barricades with ice, to see her sister running towards her, her guards—human now, not mechs—jogging to keep up with her.

Weiss reached for her instinctively and was somehow surprised when Winter only knelt before her, her hands taking Weiss but keeping their bodies at arm’s length.

“Are you well?” she asked quickly. “I was worried. Were you hurt?”

“I…” Weiss wasn’t sure how to respond, so she went for something true, if incomplete. “I am uninjured,” she said honestly.

Winter sighed in relief, “I am glad,” she said with a smile, as if Weiss had told her she was unhurt. Weiss wondered if she even understood the difference. “General Ironwood called me in immediately. I came as quickly as I was able.”

Weiss nodded. “I suppose the fall of a kingdom is a rather pressing concern,” she said with brittle dryness.

Winter’s lips twitched. “Indeed,” she agreed. “Has father contacted you?”

“He’s tried,” Weiss acknowledged. She’d called him the night after the invasion—when she knew he’d be asleep—to tell him she was alive, but had then ignored three calls from him in the two days that had since passed.

Winter nodded. “He’s coming to take you home, Weiss,” she said. “To the Manor. You’ll be safe there.”

Weiss kept her face still even as her heart seemed to shrink in her chest. “And if I don’t want to leave?” she asked quietly.

Winter frowned at her. “I understand you don’t want to leave your team,” she said, “but from what I understand, they are all either comatose or absent—without leave, I might add. They will not need you at this time. I certainly understand, generally, your wish the be free from Father’s influence over your life—”

_Do you really?_ Weiss wondered, studying her sister with what felt like new eyes. _Or are we really too different for such comparisons, Sister? We may both avoid our father, but are our reasons really the same?_

“—but in this case, Weiss,” Winter was continuing, “I think it would be best to put your personal desires aside for a time. You cannot make a great deal of difference in Vale, given the situation, and your teammates do not need you now. Father, however, could use reassurance, and you will be safe in Atlas.”

Weiss turned away and said nothing.

Winter sighed. “Please, Weiss,” she said quietly. “I want you to be safe.”

Weiss glanced at her. _I’m a huntress, Winter,_ she wanted to say. _I wasn’t going to die in bed from the beginning._

_What do you mean my teammates don’t need me?_ she wanted to shout. _After all that’s happened, they need me now more than ever!_

_Do you not see me repairing our walls and maintaining our perimeter?_ she wanted to ask. _If I’m not making a difference, who is?_

But when Winter looked at her with that soft, protective, almost motherly glint in her eye, she found she didn’t have the strength. “All right,” she whispered.

* * *

 

Her father arrived the next day. He embraced her, chastised her for not returning his calls, and informed her that they would be returning to Atlas the next day. She did not argue. Then he left her to pack her things while he spoke with General Ironwood and her sister.

It had all felt like a show, a façade. The moment he’d left she’d retreated to Ruby’s bedside, where she now sat, watching the pale girl under the white sheets, her steady breathing a rhythmic comfort.

_Is it warm when your father hugs you, Ruby?_ Weiss wondered, studying her partner’s face in repose. _I wonder what that must be like._

“I’m going to Atlas,” she said, quietly, hollowly; it was just another show, after all. It was expected for the teammate of the injured to visit and speak to her friend, even when everyone knew she couldn’t hear. “Father wants me to leave, and Winter agrees with him… and it’s not as though I can do much for you here.”

There was a silence that would have been awkward were Ruby conscious, but since she was not it was just solitude, and Weiss was familiar with it. “I’ll keep in touch, of course,” she assured emptily, barely bothering to register the words she was pushing fruitlessly into the air. “I’ll make sure they let me know when you awaken, and I’ll call as soon as I can.”

She stood up, her duty done. “I must be going,” she said, and turned to walk away. Then she stopped, almost unintentionally, and looked back.

For a moment she contemplated the light skin and dark hair—she really was far more pale than Weiss would have expected from someone growing up on Patch; too many hours spent in a lonely workshop, perhaps, and too few spent on the beaches among friends—before, on an impulse, leaning down and pressing her lips to the girl’s brow.

Ruby didn’t stir, but Weiss didn’t expect her to. “I will miss you,” the girl in white murmured into her comatose friend’s ear. “I already do.”

Then she straightened, turned, and left without another glance.

* * *

 

Unpacking the room was a great deal harder than saying goodbye to Ruby’s unconscious form. Ruby, after all, was already gone. The room was not.

Most of Blake’s books were still untouched on her shelves. Yang and Ruby’s oddments had not yet been packed, although Weiss knew, peripherally, that their father was already in Vale and planned to bring their things home as soon as they were cleared from the hospital.

In the corner, Weiss’ dust crates and research materials were still in the same organized piles she’d kept them in the whole time she’d lived here. Though much of Vale—and even of Beacon—was ravaged by the invasion, the conflict didn’t seem to have touched this room; even Ruby’s precariously-hung bunk and Yang’s still more terrifying book-balanced one were still upright.

Weiss froze in the doorway for a moment, her eyes darting around the familiar room. In all likelihood, she knew, she would never see this room again. Even if she did, it would never again have the torn curtain _just so_ , nor would Yang’s _Achieve Men_ poster be tilted just as it was. Ruby’s makeshift curtains would never be slung in precisely that haphazard way, and Blake’s collection of books would never be organized in precisely that way.

And that was always assuming they ever even saw one another again.

Weiss dimly realized she had fallen to her knees. Her cheeks felt damp. She must be crying. Odd, she thought, to be crying over a _dorm room_ of all things, when she had just come back from the hospital bed of her best friend in the world.

Weiss did not sob, or wail, or cry out. She wept in perfect silence, tears falling like snowflakes, feather-light, onto the carpet, where they left nothing more than tiny spots of dampness to tell of their passage.

She lingered thus until she was parched, and her tears dried up. Then she stayed for a little while longer, before standing and beginning her work.

Into a suitcase went her textbooks, her SDC pamphlets—she hadn’t even looked at the things since before the end of the first semester—her other reading materials. When she found she still had room, she piled in a few of Blake’s favorite books too. One day, perhaps, she would be able to return them.

She piled two suitcases, in the end, among the cases of dust, onto the cart. One carried the sum total of things she cared about—oddments, trinkets, gifts, and souvenirs—as well as a few of Blake’s favorite books. The other carried her textbooks, pamphlets, the various other nonfiction her father had sent with her, and a few other oddities that would not have disturbed her even if they were used as kindling for a bonfire.

Weiss remembered a day, almost entirely unlike this one, when she had had to drag a cart like this one into this room. She remembered calling for assistance from her entourage to do the pushing for her. She remembered them standing idly by as she berated Ruby for accidentally igniting Red Dust being waved in her face, not uttering a word to interrupt their employer’s daughter.

She knew that a similar entourage was on call to help her with the reverse duty now. The idea of calling them somehow sickened her.

She pushed the cart out of the room, reveling in how easily her toned muscled pushed the load across the carpet. A year of training—if _actual warfare_ could be considered ‘training’ for anything—had done wonders.

She ducked her head back into the room, swept her eyes across it one last time, and then closed the door gently, ignoring the way her heart seemed to stop as the latch clicked.

It was time to go home.

* * *

 

The airship ride back to Atlas was silent and utterly lonely, in the same way that all airship rides in public-transport vessels are: the passenger finds herself utterly alone in a sea of faces, all utterly disinterested in her existence.

Weiss wondered how tragic her teammates might find it that she felt this way about a flight in a small, even intimate, private airship where the only two passengers not paid to be there were herself and her father.

For herself, she was already starting to get used to it again. She had already begun to come home.

* * *

 

They arrived in Atlas in the evening. It was autumn, so of course it was already snowed in. Dark clouds obscured the evening gloom utterly, leaving the outside of the airbase black as pitch even though it was barely six in the evening. Snow swirled outside the windows, and Weiss was suddenly possessed of an urge to run outside and make a snowman, or roll snowballs and throw them at her father.

It was what Ruby would have done.

Her father had already called for a car to take them to the Schnee manor—probably dealt with sometime during the flight—and so it was a trivial matter to walk out of the private hangar and into the private lot where the private car waited for them.

She imagined what it must be like for others to travel; waiting in loud, crowded lines to enter cramped, uncomfortable airships, only to have to wait in more lines at their destination, made worse by the fatigue of the journey.

She imagined these passengers must feel almost as alone as she did.

The drive home was uneventful, but less silent than the flight. Her father had been working in the airship, but now seemed inclined to talk to her; ask after her year at Beacon, her studies, her health, et cetera.

She answered his questions accurately, honestly, and without a batted eye. When he asked whether she was glad to have gone to Beacon rather than the Atlesian Military Academy, the answer was, “Yes, Father; I’m uncertain as to whether the military life is for me.” When asked whether she was still set on being a huntress as a career, she answered, “I have excelled, and I find it no less bearable than any other field of study.” When asked whether she had been deprived any necessities, she replied, “No, Father; Beacon’s amenities were quite satisfactory.”

She wondered, idly, whether Ruby’s father would have included a question about his daughter’s happiness. She hoped so.

* * *

 

She had been home for the summer break only a few weeks ago, and yet it felt as though the old bed hadn’t been slept in in years. She lay awake that night, staring up at the barely-visible ceiling in the dark, wondering. She had instructed the medical personnel to inform her when Ruby and Yang woke—and had given Winter a private request to do the same, which she trusted rather more—and idly mused on how soon that message would arrive.

Where was Blake? What was she doing? Why had she run? How badly would it hurt Yang and Ruby? Come to that, how badly had it hurt Weiss herself?

Weiss found, to her surprise, that the pain was muted, as if by ice on a bruise. She could almost understand Blake; could almost see the combination of hurt and fear and hate that had driven her away from her friends to hunt down the man who had hurt them. She knew, of course, that her faunus teammate was wrong, and yet…

…And yet, Weiss couldn’t help but envy her that sense of undeniable purpose, misguided though it might be. Blake, regardless of her flaws and follies, knew where she was going now, or so Weiss imagined it. She herself could hardly say the same.

A thin beam of moonlight speared through the clouds, at last thinning after the snowfall, lancing a light through the open window onto the wall of her bedroom, where the SDC company logo that she had put up on her wall when she was younger still hung untouched.

Even as she shifted on her bed to turn her back to the sight, she resolved to take the thing down the next morning.

Even as her eyes closed, she knew that she wouldn’t.

* * *

 

Days passed slowly in the Schnee Manor, as though time itself was slowed in the cold. Each passed much like the others; Weiss rose early, joined her father for a lonely breakfast where he might engage her in idle talk about the goings-on of the company, or might remain mercifully silent.

Once she finished eating, she would retreat to her room to study her textbooks before the first of her tutors—her father had arranged private lessons to start up immediately upon her return, of course—arrived a little before noon. She would take her first lessons before lunch, then have that alone, likely with another textbook for company. Another two or three tutors—depending on the day—would arrive in sequence after lunch, and she would take their lessons with exactly as much attention and effort as was necessary to satisfy them, and not an iota more.

She would then be left alone for a few hours before dinner with her father, and these she usually spent either in her room reading—usually one of Blake’s books, occasionally even the raunchier ones that her father didn’t know she had—or outside in one of the many gardens, watching the slightly snowy, mostly rainy fall pass inexorably towards snowier winter.

Each orange leaf that fell reminded her of falling rose petals, or of green eyes under a golden headpiece, and the pain reminded her that she was still alive.

* * *

 

It was some weeks before the first call came from Winter. “Branwen,” she said, and the name was still derisive in her mouth, despite all that had happened, “tells me that Miss Xiao Long has awakened, but that she has flatly refused to take any calls.”

Weiss tried the number anyway.

“Taiyang Xiao Long here,” said a haggard—yet still somehow bright—male voice on the other end. “If you’re trying to reach my daughter, sorry, but she’s not taking calls yet.”

“Even from a teammate?” Weiss asked quietly, knowing the answer. _I’m not Blake._

“You’re Weiss Schnee, right?” Taiyang asked, and though his voice sounded pleased to meet her, she detected the faint undertone of shame and knew why he was asking.

“I’m not Blake,” she agreed. “It’s all right; she and Yang were close. I certainly don’t blame your daughter.”

The man sighed on the other end. “You kids,” he grumbled. “When did they teach you to read minds?”

Weiss found herself smiling slightly. “The same place they teach fathers to send dogs through the mail chute.”

Taiyang barked in laughter. “Oh, I like you!” he said. “I wasn’t expecting _this_ when my daughters told me they had a Schnee on the team! Is there anything I _can_ do for you, besides pass the phone to Yang? She’s… really not up to talk.”

Weiss looked out her window at the running water of the rain on the glass. “Is she stable, at least?” she asked quietly. “Asking after her happiness would be… redundant.”

Taiyang sighed. “She’ll live,” he said ruefully. “Thank Oum for that; I couldn’t stand to lose her.”

“None of us could,” Weiss agreed. “She was—is…” She struggled to find words.

“She’s your teammate,” Taiyang agreed softly. “I get it, Weiss—can I call you Weiss?”

She smiled openly. “Please do,” she said. “No one here does.”

There was a moment’s silence. “I married two of my teammates, did you know that?” Taiyang said suddenly. She blinked at the sudden turn. “I don’t know if Ruby and Yang ever told you,” he said, “but I think you deserve to know. They’re half-sisters; Yang’s biological mother was Qrow’s sister, Raven Branwen. She…” The man made a strange, hard-to-understand sound. “She left,” he said eventually, “when Yang was barely born, and I remarried Summer a little over a year later, and she had Ruby. We were all teammates in Beacon; Summer, Raven, Qrow, and I. Team STRQ.”

She was silent.

“So when I say I get what it’s like to lose a teammate,” he said, and made another odd sound—swallowing, perhaps—“I want you to understand; when I lost Raven, and when I lost Summer, it hurt because I loved them both, but to this day I’m not sure whether it hurt more to lose a wife or a teammate.”

Weiss closed her eyes and was a little surprised to find a hint of dampness between the lids.  “Thank you for telling me, Mr. Xiao Long,” she said quietly. “I’d known they were half-sisters, but I didn’t know the whole story.”

“Well, now you do,” her teammates’ father said firmly. “And please, call me Taiyang, or Tai. Mr. Xiao Long was my dad.”

She smiled slightly. “All right, Taiyang,” she said. “What about Ruby? Any change in her condition?”

“She’s stronger every day,” Taiyang said, and his voice was unabashedly happy, as if the gloomy preceding conversation had never happened. “She looks like she could wake up at any time.”

Weiss smiled again. “Please let me know when she does,” she requested.

“Be happy to, Weiss.”

* * *

 

The next call came only a few short days later. Weiss was in the middle of a Dust theory lesson when her scroll rang. She pulled it out, preparing to mute it, when she noticed the Caller ID: _Ruby Rose_.

Without so much as a glance at her instructor, she immediately accepted the call and put the device to her ear. “Ruby, is that you?” she asked immediately.

“Weiss.” Ruby’s voice was drained and sad, and it hurt Weiss to hear it. “Dad told me you called.”

“I was worried,” Weiss said honestly. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m… alive,” Ruby mumbled. “And healthy, I guess.”

Weiss blinked hard.

Her instructor cleared his throat. She gave him a look, and he seemed to contract instant frostbite, so fast did he pale and scurry out the door. “That’s… something,” Weiss replied to her partner. “I suppose it all feels like it was just yesterday to you.”

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed, her tone subdued. “I just… Pyrrha, and Penny… and Yang and Blake… even _Torchwick_ …”

Weiss frowned. “What about him?” she asked blankly. She’d guessed he had been involved, but not much had been said about him since the battle.

“Oh, Weiss,” Ruby said, a sob breaking out in her voice. “He was—we were fighting on one of the airships—the one he hijacked—and he… and _Pyrrha_ …” Ruby broke down.

Weiss swallowed back her own tears. “There, there,” she whispered, wishing with all her heart that she were in Patch now, instead of halfway across Remnant. “It’s all right, Ruby. It’s over.”

“Why did so many people have to die?” Ruby wailed, and Weiss’ heart broke for her all over again. “Why do people always have to die?”

Weiss had no answer, and could only whisper comforting nothings across the distance.

* * *

 

Her father was displeased that she had blown off her instructor. He was even more displeased with how flippant she was over the whole affair. When he sarcastically asked, over dinner, if her call had been more important than her lessons, she had answered with a perfectly honest, “Yes, Father.”

He had told her that, since she clearly knew the material so well, she would be taking a test in it the next day. She shrugged, and finished her meal.

The next day, she passed the test without missing a single question. Her father had nothing to say about it, and she didn’t prompt him.

When scroll calls with Ruby became a part of her daily routine in the evening, she had a feeling he knew, but he said nothing about it.

* * *

 

It was December before this changed. Ruby called early one day; during her lunch, which she still took alone. She rose from the table immediately to answer.

“Ruby, is something wrong?” she asked quickly.

“No, Weiss,” Ruby reassured at once, “no, nothing’s wrong. I just… wanted to keep you posted.” She sighed, a slight melancholy lilt to her voice. “I’m here with JNP—uh, with Jaune, Ren, and Nora. We’re… we’re going to Mistral.”

Weiss blinked. “Why on earth would you go there?” she asked, “and how are you getting there? Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“Cinder’s gone there,” Ruby said firmly. “She’s gone to Haven, and we want—need—answers. We’re walking to Port North, and then we’re taking a ferry to Mistral. I couldn’t risk Dad hearing about it before I was already gone.”

Weiss froze. “You’re _walking_?” she hissed. “Across the wilds? Are you out of your mind, Ruby?”

“Weiss,” Ruby said, chiding. “It’s me. It’s _us_. We’ll be fine, I promise. But… I won’t be able to call you for a few weeks while I’m outside of CCT coverage.”

Weiss struggled to find words. “Ruby,” she said firmly, “this is a terrible idea. Please, think about this!”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past three months?” Ruby asked, a sharp edge to her voice now. “After everything that’s happened… I’m done standing on the sidelines. I’m going to Mistral, and I’m going to figure out what’s going on. I’ll call you every time we enter a wasteland tower’s range, promise.”

Weiss swallowed a tangled mess of emotions, blinking rapidly. “Promise me you’ll be all right?” she asked.

“I promise, Weiss,” Ruby said, a smile in her tone. “I’ll send you a map of our planned route so you know when to expect to hear from me.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said, exhaling slightly. Ruby, I…” She stopped, unsure.

“Do you want to talk to the others?” Ruby asked. “You don’t have to; they’ll understand.”

“Will they?” Weiss wondered aloud, though relief colored her tone. _Do I?_

“Of course!” Ruby said merrily. “They… well.” She sighed. “They know how important teammates are,” she said eventually.”

Weiss swallowed. “Be safe,” she ordered tightly.

“I will,” Ruby promised. “You too.”

Weiss smiled slightly. “I will.”

“And call Yang sometime soon!” Ruby added. “She misses everyone.”

Weiss nodded. “I will,” she promised. _Maybe she can put me in touch with Blake; there’s no way_ they _haven’t talked in three full months._

“I should go.” Ruby sounded uncomfortable now, as though she didn’t want to hang up. “Reception’s getting spotty already.” Indeed, Weiss had heard as much in the increased static through the call.

Weiss sighed. “Very well,” she agreed wearily. “I’ll miss talking to you, Ruby.”

“I’ll miss you too, Weiss,” Ruby said. “I’ll call as soon as I can.”

“Please do.”

There was a strained silence, inevitable in all real partings.

“Goodbye, Weiss,” Ruby whispered.

“Goodbye, Ruby,” Weiss replied, but her partner had already hung up.

For a moment, she looked down at the scroll in her hand, and then, her limbs slow, she pocketed it, and mechanically returned to the table to finish her meal.

The warm meats did nothing to ease the chill that had settled over her.

* * *

 

It took Weiss two weeks to muster the strength to call Yang. During that time her studies had improved, not because she had devoted more effort to them, but because taking any time to herself seemed pointless. No relaxation or rest ever seemed to ease the frost that had settled over her insides.

 Eventually, however, she did finally make the call.

“Yang Xiao Long.” The voice on the other end of the line was almost unrecognizable. Where Weiss’ teammate had been vibrant, this voice was subdued; where Yang was cheerful, this girl was grim.

In three words, this altered voice, made Weiss want to scream.

She swallowed the foolish urge. “Yang,” she said lightly. “How have you been?”

“Weiss,” the voice said, without inflection. “I’ve… been.”

Weiss had no real response to that.

“Really, Yang,” she said, the slightest hint of her anger at this _imitation_ of her friend seeping into her voice. “The Yang I knew would be up and active already. She wouldn’t even let a…” she stopped momentarily, “…missing limb stop her.”

“The arm,” said Yang dully, “isn’t the problem.”

Weiss blinked, and had a feeling she understood.

“Have you talked to Ruby recently?” Yang continued.

“She called me when she left you,” Weiss said, slightly embarrassed by the length of time that had passed. “She’s currently out of reception—somewhere between kingdoms—” _According to my triangulation, she’s likely two days out from Peyria, in the north of Forever Fall._ “—but if all goes well she should reach a CCT network node in the next few days, and she’s promised to call me from there.”

“Good,” Yang said, her voice flat. “Let me know if she doesn’t.”

“I’ll tell her to call you,” Weiss agreed.

There was a pause. Weiss cleared her throat.

“How is Blake?” she asked, changing the subject. “I haven’t heard from her.”

Somehow, even across the ocean, the silence seemed to chill. “Question of the day, isn’t it?” Yang asked, her voice suddenly brimming with bitterness. “Let me know if you find anything out.”

_Wait._ Weiss’ eyes widened. _No. It can’t be; Blake wouldn’t leave Yang like this for so long._ “What?” she asked sharply. “You mean she… hasn’t contacted you?”

“Not since she skipped town after I lost an arm trying to save her life,” Yang said, her voice sounding slightly constricted now. “Listen, Weiss, I have to go. I have to do… things.”

“Oh, Yang,” Weiss murmured, unable to keep the pity out of her voice. “I’m sure she has her reasons; she would need them, to be kept away from _you_ for so long.”

There was silence. Weiss glanced at the scroll and found that Yang had hung up.

She closed her eyes. _I’m so sorry, Yang,_ she said silently.

Then she stood and put her scroll away. The frost, having abated during the conversation, once again closed around her heart.

* * *

 

Ruby called one day late, three days after Weiss had called Yang.

“Weiss!” she exclaimed the moment the call connected. “How have you been?”

“You’re one day behind schedule,” Weiss informed her tightly. “I was worried.”

Rucy chuckled. “Come on, Weiss,” she said amusedly. “We don’t even have a real timestamp for the plan; we just know how far we expect to travel each day!”

“From which I calculated an expected timing plan,” Weiss agreed shortly. “What kept you? What was the delay?”

Ruby giggled. “You’ll never believe this,” she said cheerfully. “Guess who we ran into?”

Weiss frowned. “Who?” she asked.

“CRDL!” Ruby exclaimed happily. “They were on their way back into Vale, along with a Huntsman trainer. We took an afternoon off to camp with them.”

Weiss frowned. “You camped with CRDL?” she asked, askance. “As in, _Cardin Wichester’s_ team?”

“Yep!” Ruby said, her cheer diminishing slightly. “They’ve… really grown up, Weiss. Cardin apologized to Jaune the moment he saw us, and they were all really sad about what happened to Pyrrha. I actually met Dove a couple of times during the fall; he lives on Patch, too. He’s not so bad—not anymore, anyway.”

Weiss looked out the window. It was snowing again. “Well, I’m glad of that, I suppose,” she said eventually. “If you had to be late… I suppose that was as good a reason as any.”

“Weiss,” Ruby chided merrily. “Stop mothering me! It’s fine; we’ve barely had to fight any Grimm at all! They’re scared of me, after all.”

“Of course they are, Ruby,” Weiss chuckled, amused. “Of course they are. But do be careful, won’t you?”

“I—” Ruby seemed to have been brought up short by something, then continued. “I will,” she said, slightly less chipper now. “I promise. All four of us will get to Mistral safe.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Weiss said firmly.

* * *

 

The weeks went by slowly after that. It would be at least four more until Ruby next called, when she reached Port North.

But only two had passed when Winter returned home. Weiss greeted her at the airbase.

“Winter,” she said, inclining her head slightly by way of greeting. “It is good to see you again.”

Winter stopped short at the sight of her, studying her intently. “Are you all right, Weiss?” she asked softly.

Weiss raised a brow. “I am in perfect health,” she said, “and have been doing well in my lessons. Why should I not be?”

Winter knelt before her. “Have you spoken with your teammates yet?” she asked, her eyes meeting Weiss’ searchingly.

“Of course,” Weiss said. “I called for Yang the moment I heard she’d wakened, but she was not taking calls. Ruby called me when she awoke, and we kept in regular communication for several weeks.”

Winter’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You _kept_ in communication?” she asked. “What happened?”

Weiss looked away. “She is out of transmission range,” she said. “She calls me whenever she passes by a network node. She’s traveling to Mistral.”

Winter put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Weiss shrugged her off. “Whatever for?” she asked dryly.

“You’re not happy,” Winter said simply.

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Happiness is for dreams, vacations, and fairy tales,” she said firmly. “This is the real world. I’ll live. Come; father desires your presence at dinner tonight.”

* * *

 

Winter, though she was sleeping in the Schnee Manor for the moment and spent her days in Atlas, was still very much involved in the situation in Vale. Every day she received multiple calls from the city, keeping her appraised of the situation while she tried to coordinate affairs between the forward operators in the Kingdom to the south and headquarters in Atlas.

It was over dinner that Weiss heard something that interested her about one of these calls. Her father had been asking about the White Fang’s foothold in Vale and whether General Ironwood was likely to take further steps against them.

“It seems increasingly likely that the White Fang will be severely weakened by the situation,” Winter said broadly. “Given their fragmented outposts and the difficulties they’ve been having internally.”

Weiss glanced up from her stew at her sister. “Internal difficulties?” she asked.

Winter nodded. “Multiple White Fang patrols have turned up dead,” she elaborated. “The culprit, from what we can gather, is a rebel of some description, with Huntress training. We believe we have a sighting of her.”

Weiss’ eyes were narrowing. “Are there any photographs?” she asked slowly.

Winter frowned at her. “Yes,” she said slowly, “if little more than a silhouette. Why?”

“May I see?” Weiss said without answering.

Winter shrugged and fiddled with her scroll for a moment before passing it over.

On the screen, framed against the shattered moon, was a vague shadow of a figure standing on a rooftop. Her curves, and the two peaks atop her head that might have been ears—but _weren’t_ —formed a shape Weiss knew all too well.

“She’s killing them?” she asked, her voice perfectly steady.

Winter nodded. “She seems to have been moving from one Fang encampment to another,” she confirmed. “We believe she’s looking for some specific target.”

Weiss stood and handed the scroll back to Winter. “Thank you,” she said, and turned to leave.

Her father chastised her and told her she had not yet been excused.

She turned back and curtseyed. “Of course, Father,” she said. “May I be excused?”

He told her should would not be excused until she explained herself.

She smiled slightly. “That’s a shame,” she said, and left.

* * *

 

“Yang Xiao Long,” came the voice on the other end of the line. She sounded much better, Weiss noted; far from happy, but at least not the emotional wreck she had been only a few short weeks ago.

“Blake is in Vale,” Weiss said without preamble.

“Say what?” Yang’s voice was slightly sharp and mostly blankly surprised.

“You told me to let you know,” Weiss reminded her rapidly, the emotions she’d tightly controlled at the table threatening to overflow. “Yang, she’s in Vale and I’m… I fear for her.”

“Blake,” Yang said, and her voice had frosted, “can take care of herself.”

“Too well,” Weiss agreed grimly. “Yang, she’s _killing people_. The White Fang pockets in Vale have started going dark; the survivors the authorities find report a Huntress matching Blake’s description as the killer.”

“Blake?” Yang’s voice was slow, disbelieving. “ _Killing people_? Didn’t she leave the Fang because they were _too violent_?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Weiss said, biting her lip. “I just know that I saw her before she left and she didn’t look…” Blake’s golden eyes had been dark with a storm of thoughts and emotions beyond deciphering, and her posture had been hunched, but also coiled for a fight. “…Well.” Weiss finished lamely. “I’m afraid for her, Yang. I worry about what she’s becoming.”

Yang was silent for a moment before she responded. “And what’s it to me?”

Weiss was brought up short. “What?” she asked blankly.

“What’s it to me?” Yang repeated, and there was a growing flame to her voice now. “When everything fell apart, we were supposed to stick together—to help each other through it. But you let your _father_ drag you away, and Blake ran, and then _Ruby_ ran too! I was the only one who tried to turn to you three, and you _let me fall!_ ”

Weiss’ eyes were clenched shut, tears threatening to spill, but Yang continued mercilessly, her voice at a fever pitch: “Blake doubted me during the tournament, and then when I needed her—needed _all of you_ —you let me down! Ruby was unconscious, and Blake ran, and you didn’t stay! So what’s it to me if Blake’s in trouble now? _So was I!_ ”

_And I,_ Weiss thought, a tear leaking from her closed lids despite her best efforts. She wiped it away quickly, and, opening her eyes, dabbed away the dampness with a handkerchief. _And so was Ruby._

“Yang,” she said, heedless of the roughness of her tone, “Don’t you see I felt the same way?”

“ _You didn’t lose an arm!_ ”

“No,” Weiss agreed, a sob threatening to break her composure midsentence. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt—watching everything fall apart, and knowing we couldn’t do anything. But you and Ruby were _both_ unconscious, and, yes, Blake ran.”

She sighed, and swallowed once to get herself back under control, before finishing. “I tried to turn to you too, and no one was there to catch me.”

And in that moment, all her control broke and, despite all attempts to stem it, tears came and tight, small sobs racked her frame, choked with the effort to hold back.

There was merciful silence on the other end of the line as she cried, finally beginning, even slightly, to unleash all that had been growing in her mind since she’d returned.

“I’m sorry.” Yang’s voice was subdued now, and ashamed.

“So am I,” Weiss replied, her throat tightening as another burst of weeping threatened to overcome her as she spoke. “I should have waited.”

“I shouldn’t have expected you to,” Yang said. “Look, I…” She trailed off, and there was silence for a time while Weiss regained control of herself.

“Yang,” she said eventually, “Blake needs us.” And it was true, wasn’t it? Nothing else mattered, in the end.

“She wasn’t there for me.” The whisper was small and weak, and spoke of hurt and fear and love.

Weiss said the only thing she could. “I’m sure she regrets that,” she said, and her voice was exactly as certain as she felt—very. “I have to believe that, or I never knew her at all.” _And I did._

There was another pause, and when Yang spoke again, there was an odd note to her voice—something familiar that Weiss had not heard in months. “I think I’ll be taking a trip to Atlas soon,” she said, and though her voice was quiet, that odd quality seemed to make it resonate. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Why in Remnant would you come here? It’s awful!” Weiss burst out, and then wondered why she had. She glanced out the window at the falling snow and continued, honestly, “It snows through April!”

“Never would have guessed you didn’t like the snow,” Yang said dryly.

“I don’t _mind_ snow,” Weiss corrected, “but too much of a good thing can be unpleasant.”

“That why you kept my sister at arm’s length?” Weiss could just imagine the grin spreading on the blonde’s face as she spoke.

For her part, Weiss found herself blushing. “Your sister is a dunce,” she grumbled, “and so are you. _Why_ are you coming to Atlas?”

“Not sure I am yet.” The words were an admission of some kind; Yang sounded uncertain, and ashamed of it. “I have to make a call, check on something.”

“Well,” Weiss said with a hint of gentleness, “let me know if you are. I’ll introduce you to Winter—you never met her, did you?”

“Nope,” Yang said, and Weiss could hear the glee in her voice—a beautiful, unexpected sound. “Be nice to swap stories about our little sisters.”

Weiss put her head in her free hand with a sound of displeasure. “Never mind,” she muttered. “I’ll keep you as far from her as possible.”

Yang snorted audibly. “I’m going to go make that call now,” she said, and there was a familiar fire in her voice, still in that half-forgotten quality Weiss had missed. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes, Weiss.”

“Goodbye, Yang.” Weiss hung up and pulled the scroll away to stare at it for a moment.

She knew exactly what she’d heard in Yang’s voice, and wondered when she’d lost sight of it herself.

It was hope.

It took, in fact, a couple of hours for Yang to call back. “Sorry,” she said, sounding harried. “You know how it is; bureaucracy.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “I’m quite sure I do, yes,” she said, thinking of the SDC’s endless paperwork. “But I think I’d understand better if I knew what this was about.”

“Well, Ironwood—” Yang began, and then stopped. “Actually,” she said slyly, “I think I’ll let it be a surprise. I _am_ coming up to Atlas—in two weeks, I’ll be headed up to the Central Military Hospital for a surgery.”

Weiss blinked blankly. “What?” she asked. “That’s for Atlesian operatives only, isn’t it?”

“Ironwood’s making an exception,” Yang said, and there was a hint of pride in her voice. “He needs us, and he knows it. We’re the best huntresses-in-training Professor Ozpin had.”

“And what does that have to do with your operation?” Weiss asked curiously.

Yang chuckled. “You’ll see. I’ll meet you at the airport on the fifth?”

“I can try to get father to give you a private flight,” Weiss offered, “if you’d rather not fly public.”

Yang snorted. “And deprive Remnant of _me_?” she demanded. “Are you out of you mind? Or…” she giggled evilly. “Maybe you _Schneezed_ your brains out, eh?”

Weiss froze. “Yang, no,” she said.

“Yang, _yes_.”

“Go back to being a depressed ball of self-pity,” Weiss ordered flatly.

“Aw, you know you don’t mean that,” Yang said teasingly.

“No,” Weiss grumbled, “I don’t. The point stands. The puns are unacceptable.”

“Are they stressing you out?” Yang asked through laughter. “Will they turn your hair prematurely _Weiss_?”

“I’ll meet you at the airport,” Weiss said flatly, and hung up.

* * *

 

Yang looked grumpy when she got off the airship. “Everybody was trying to help me!” she complained. “It was all, ‘oh, can I help you with your luggage,’ and ‘oh, do you need and help getting on the plane,’ and ‘do you need help getting to the toilet.’” She huffed disdainfully. “You’d think I was a cripple.”

Weiss raised an eyebrow and pointedly glanced at her teammate’s stump. Yang glared balefully at her.

“I may only have _one_ arm,” she declared, turning her nose up, “but I’ve still got _twice_ the functionality of most of these clowns! You’d think I was a quadriplegic!”

Weiss hugged her impulsively. “I have missed you, Yang,” she said, reveling in the warmth of her friend’s body against her icy skin.

Yang wrapped her single arm around her and stroked her hair. “I’ve missed you too, Weiss,” she said affectionately. “It’s great to see you. How’ve you been?”

Weiss shrugged, not pulling away. “I’ve been all right, I suppose,” she said. “It’s been… difficult, getting back into the routine.”

Yang nodded against her. “Yeah, I think I understand,” she agreed. “I know I _couldn’t_ , but then since _boxing_ was part of the routine I guess getting back in was kind of off the table to begin with.”

Weiss chuckled and pulled away. “You’re doing much better,” she said, pleased.

Yang grinned at her. “So are you,” she said. “Doing okay with your family?”

Weiss’ smile faded. “Father doesn’t understand,” she shrugged, “but he never did. The problem is that now, nor does Winter, and she always used to.”

Yang grimaced sympathetically. “That’s not my problem,” she said wryly. “Dad got it a bit too well.”

Weiss winced. “He told me the story,” she said gingerly. “The first time I tried to call you, just after you woke.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know you called,” she said slowly.

Weiss shrugged. “You still weren’t taking any calls,” she said. “At least…”

“Unless they were from Blake,” Yang finished grimly. “Yeah, I was an idiot. Blake’s great, but she’s not coming back by herself. I get that now. Not sure I get _why_ , but we can deal with that when we get to it.”

Weiss cocked an eyebrow, hardly daring to hope. “When we get to it?” she asked.

Yang grinned. “Later, Weiss-cream,” she sang cheerily. “I have a surgery to get to.”

* * *

 

Yang was quick to tell the receptionist not to let her companion know why she was in there because she was cruel that way. The receptionist told Weiss that Yang’s surgery would take two hours and that she could return when they were finished.

Since the only place Weiss would go was to the manor, she stayed in the waiting room and dozed lightly, reveling in the freedom. Winter had known where she was going and would tell father, but she doubted he would have a chance to send someone after her until the evening. So for the moment, she was free.

Two and a half hours later, Yang came back out and Weiss was struck dumb at the sight of her.

Yang smirked at her astonishment and flexed the golden fingers of her right arm. “Like what you see?” she asked flirtatiously. “I guess the robot fetish really is universally Atlesian.”

Weiss stood slowly. “Yang,” she said, and her voice was so choked that she couldn’t have continued even if she knew what to say.”

Yang grinned and flexed the mechanical wrist. Out popped the shape of a familiar bracer, the metal twisting to accommodate its passage, the buckshot rounds visible in the firing chamber. “It is _good_ to be back,” she said. “Wanna spar?”

The receptionist yelped. “Miss Xiao Long,” she exclaimed, “you are _not_ cleared for anything beyond light activity for at least a week!”

Yang waved her off, the light glinting off the gleaming gold alloy as it moved. “Eh,” she declared eloquently. “It’ll be fine. If it breaks, we’ll know it wasn’t up to scratch anyway.”

“We’re not worried about the _prosthetic_ breaking,” she receptionist grumbled.

Yang snorted. “Well, if _I_ break, we’ll know _I_ wasn’t up to scratch either,” she said.

Weiss found her voice again. “Yang, you just came out of surgery,” she said weakly. “I’m sure you’ve been fasting, you’re still getting used to the immunodepressants…”

“Ooh,” Yang said wincing, glimmering fingers tightening into a fist. “Thanks for reminding me about the fast. Yeah, can sparring wait until I’ve had some food?” She blinked and glanced at Weiss appraisingly. “Got any good places to eat around here?”

Weiss cocked an eyebrow. “There’s a very nice Mistralian bistro a block away,” she said dryly, “with lovely authentic ambiance and an eleven-course menu.”

Yang stared at her in horror.

“Or,” Weiss said, a smile spreading across her face, “There’s a burger place down the street.”

Yang laughed, her golden arm catching the light as it shook. “I like the way you think,” she said. “I could murder a burger or five.”

* * *

 

When Weiss came home that night, after being out without leave for nearly the whole day, she was told to go to her father immediately.

“I’ll come,” Yang told her, having come home with her to spend the night.

Weiss smiled at her and didn’t argue.

Her father was displeased. When he asked who Yang was, Weiss told him. “My teammate from Beacon; Yang Xiao Long.”

When he asked why she was using patented Atlesian military technology, Weiss smiled and said “because she can use it more effectively than most of Atlas’ military.”

When he asked her why the girl was here, she told him, “Because she’ll be spending the night.”

The Schnee clan head’s blue eyes narrowed. “Oh,” he said slowly. “ _Will_ she.”

Weiss nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Will there be anything else, Father?”

“Yes,” he said coldly. “How long do you expect me to put up with your disobedience, Daughter? Even your sister was never this rebellious.”

Weiss shrugged. “I’m sorry if you think I’m doing what I am out of a desire to displease you, Father,” she said pleasantly. “I assure you, how you feel about what I do was the _furthest_ thing from my mind today.”

Her father’s eyes flashed. “Indeed?” he asked slowly. “And I suppose now you have no intention of testing me?”

Weiss smiled slightly and looked down. “I admit,” she said, “I am feeling a great deal more… independent, than I have in recent weeks.”

“I see,” said her father coldly. “Then I suppose, as your father, I must remove the problematic influence on you. Miss Xiao Long, I am sorry, but you will _not_ be staying here tonight.”

Weiss cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed?” she asked. “Yang, you have money for a hotel room? I’m afraid all my funds are currently in SDC accounts.”

Yang shrugged with a wry grin. “Yeah, I’ve got some,” she said. “I’ll find a place.”

“ _We’ll_ find a place,” Weiss corrected taking her friend’s arm and steering her out the door. “I shall return in the morning, Father.”

Her father stood quickly. “Weiss,” he said firmly. “Do _not_ turn your back on me.”

She glanced over her shoulder to smile at him. “We need to have a serious discussion about my funds,” she said. “If I’m going to need to pay my own way from now on, I’ll need to know sooner rather than later, so that I can find work. Come, Yang.”

* * *

 

When they had found a hotel room and had finally settled it, Yang finally asked the obvious questions. “So,” she drawled. “Your dad?”

Weiss sighed. “He really isn’t a bad man,” she said firmly. “Blake would _hate_ him, of course, because of what he represents, but he’s certainly not _directly_ responsible for the treatment of Faunus. The issues are all lower on the chain.”

Yang shook her head. “That’s not the point,” she said. “I’m not Blake. Basically, what was that?

Weiss sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired of the leash,” she said quietly. “I need to keep my father happy if I want his money, but he’s so… _archaic_. It’s like he’s living in a different decade, especially given how rarely he seems to even hear what I’m saying. Like he’s years away. That time in the office was the first time I think he’s really talked directly to _me_ since I returned.” She sighed. “It was easier, before Beacon. I didn’t know there was any other way. Now…”

Yang gave her a sympathetic look. “Sorry we made trouble for your family,” she said.

Weiss shook her head firmly. “You misunderstand,” she said, and threw her arms around her friend on a whim. “Beacon showed me what it was like to be happy. I can’t go back from that, and I don’t want to.”

* * *

 

True to her word, Weiss returned the next morning, Yang in tow. “Father,” she greeted, once she was admitted to his office.

He asked her if she’d had time to come to her senses. She chuckled. “I never took leave of them, Father,” she said, amusedly. “I’m afraid this _is_ me.”

He blinked, and stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes sharpening at last. “Is it really?” he asked, and there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

She smiled sadly at him. “We haven’t talked about my time in Beacon,” she said gently, “because you haven’t asked—not the right questions, at any rate. Allow me to offer: I was happy, there. Happier than I have been in years.” She glanced at Yang warmly. “You can, legally, cut off my entire credit line, disinherit me, and cast me out of the family,” she said quietly, “but, Father, you can _never_ take that away from me.” She looked back at him, still smiling. “And if you try, I’m afraid it will be the last time you see me for a long while.”

There was a dead silence. Yang was staring at her, open-mouthed. Her father’s composure was little better.

Weiss chuckled. “Winter,” she said softly, “was rebellious, but in the end she is similar to you; disciplined, orderly, and cold. I find that I am not. This, Father, is not rebellion; it is freedom.”

She sighed and, without asking permission, sat down across from him. “I love you,” she confessed honestly. “And more than that, I love the father I remember from my childhood who was willing to indulge the occasional childish fantasy in his younger daughter. I want to keep you in my life. But I am no longer willing to compromise who I am for either your distant approval or your money.”

She sighed and looked at Yang. “Yang and I,” she said, “will be headed to Vale as soon as she recovers from her surgery, to help another of our teammates. I _will_ be leaving. I can do it with or without your blessing.” She turned to him. “If ever you loved me,” she said quietly, “then please—love me as I am.”

She subsided at last, her eyes meeting her father’s and holding them. At length, he broke the connection and put his head in his hands.

“I only wanted what’s best for you.” His voice shook ever-so-slightly.

She smiled. “In a normal seventeen-your-old girl, you would certainly know best,” she agreed. “But I’ve grown a great deal in the past year; I’ve nearly died more than once, and I’ve… come into my own, I suppose. I know who I am, Father. Can you please try to see it too?”

He looked up at her, and his eyes were wet. “I want you to promise me,” he said quietly, “that if you find yourself to be wrong, you won’t allow your pride to keep you from coming home.”

She laughed lightly at him. “Never, Father,” she said gently.

He swallowed. “I will keep your credit line open,” he said. “Please, Weiss… call home occasionally?”

She took his hand across the table. “I’ll be happy to,” she said.

* * *

 

_“When the people all stop and stare,_   
_And say, ‘Why you gotta be like that?’_   
_I just look ‘em in the eye and tell ‘em_   
_I was raised by bats!”_

-Aurelio Voltaire, _Raised by Bats_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story was originally going to have a very different ending; Weiss was going to storm out of her father's house, leaving behind his money and his control.
> 
> A day spent with my own father made me think a little harder. Weiss Schnee in fanfiction has enough estranged and vile fathers.
> 
> I wanted to write about one who just didn't know his daughter as well as he thought he did. It's rather more human.


End file.
